


Blood and Dust

by birdsareblooming



Category: Undertale
Genre: Amnesia, Angst, Hurt, Hurt No Comfort, Mild Blood, One Shot, POV First Person, Prequel, Short One Shot, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-27
Updated: 2019-10-27
Packaged: 2021-01-04 05:27:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21192323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/birdsareblooming/pseuds/birdsareblooming
Summary: All you can think of is war.





	Blood and Dust

You have blood and dust on your hands.

But you keep going.

Do you even know why anymore? It doesn’t seem so. 

You just keep going.

You can’t remember the last time you’ve eaten, the last time you’ve slept, the last time you’ve had a prolonged conversation with a fellow human just for enjoyment. 

You can’t remember the last time you brushed or cut your hair. It’s getting long, knotted, you used to weave your fingers through it, but it’s like a thick grove now, and your fingers get stuck. 

You can’t remember the last time you’ve bathed, your skin feels like old leather, and old mud sticks on like an old friend. 

You haven’t changed your clothes in ages. Their ragged, messy, your cape is ripped to almost half it’s former length. The seamstresses keep wishing to pull you aside, to fix the holes in your shirt and the tears in your pants, but every break is a waste of time. 

Every camp you set for the army, every campfire lit for warmth, is a waste of time. Brushing your hair, taking time for a bath, time for talking, is all a waste of time.

You need to keep going.

Your end goal, unknown. Your journey, demanding and laborious. 

But you have to keep going.

The people around you ask if you need sleep, if you need new clothes, but you don’t answer them. If you think back, you can’t remember when you last used your voice. 

Actually, if you think back you can’t remember if you’ve ever spoke. If you’ve ever talked to anyone. 

You don’t know how you got here.

Here, in a field, with tents posted everywhere, talking with magicians and communing with kings. Walking through the camp mindlessly, not even noticing when the running children step on your feet.

You feel like a ghost. 

You can’t remember anything. Your childhood, your friends, if you had any, your parents, your life. It’s all gone. 

They, the soldiers the guards the mages, they speak to you as if you know them, some as if you’ve known them for a long time. Some walk by and thank you for your sacrifices. The kings speak of battle plans as if you came up with them. But you don’t understand.

All that remains in your head when you think back is the truth that you need to keep going.

Wandering where you feel pulled, with a legion of soldiers at your back.

Groaning, stopping to eat, hugging their forced along children, rubbing their feet. But it’s wasting time, and you don’t understand. You stopped feeling pain a long time ago, and you don’t remember what it felt like.

Sometimes you wonder, what would be different if you did get tired like the rest, needed food like the rest, sleep like the rest, have memories of home like the rest. But it’s good that you don’t, it keeps you going. 

Keeps you going through snow and fire and wounds and war. 

It keeps you going in battle, holding back the enemy, slaughtering those who get close to you, painting your sword white. 

You don’t know what led you here, what pushes you towards the battlefield, what made you kill and kill and kill.

But it doesn’t matter.

Maybe if you keep going, if you slaughter as many as you can, if you kill their king their queen their servants their soldiers, if you complete the task you don’t know, maybe you’ll remember. Maybe you can stop going.

So you keep going, in the hope that you can stop.

You keep going, it’s all that you can do.

You have blood and dust on your hands.

**Author's Note:**

> Idk i felt led to write.


End file.
